When I was a kid, hope was a rampant imagination - hell bent on escaping my tormented reality. Hope was my wish and my answer. I wished for someone to hear my screams. I wished for my teachers to ask me about my bruises. I wished for it all to stop. I sat on the playground hoping for a better future. Hoping to feel like a person rather than an object. I had hope that the bullies at school and at home would get bored. I hoped for it to stop. I had a sliver of hope, just enough to keep me going.
In my late teen years, my hope was diminished. I didn't want to live in a place where an innocent child could grow up to see the terrors I had seen. I had no hope for a way out, thankfully, someone else did. When I was running low on that four letter word, another person borrowed some to me. In fact several came together to do so.
I'll tell you what, I flourished! I did everything in my power to spread hope, love, kindness and humor to any person I met.
Then in an instant it was all gone.I hoped it was all a terrible lie.
I found myself a victim with no voice, no strength and no hope. Well, not the way you would expect. I hoped I would be shown the mercy of the blade pressed across my throat. I hoped I would not have to suffer. Now I just hope to forget.
Now as I'm in my early to mid twenties I have had amazing friendships, a car accident, misguided relationships, as well as truly great ones, deaths of loved ones and a chance for a fresh start. I hope to figure as much of life out as I'm meant to. I hope to learn from past mistakes, betrayals and celebrations.
I don't think people realized how much hope really hurts. It has been known to rip out my entire soul and throw it to the dogs. In order for hope to exist there needs to be something terrible for it to manifest that wishful feeling. In order to experience the fruit of the hope, you need to overcome tragedy.
This sick fact makes me question each person I meet. What makes them happy? Surely it's impossible to have a perfect life with no instances of pain or suffering. It makes me wonder if the happiest people have seen the worst terrors and therefore know the most satisfying feeling of making it out through the other side?
What can I learn from these people?
In turn, what can I do for others through this?
I understand that I broke a ton of writing rules by typing 'Hope' nearly 30 times, but I think it's necessary to get my feelings across.
There is another entirely different feeling that I associate with hope that I originally 'hoped' to write about. I can't seem too, I think it would be more appropriate for me to discuss that another time.
In my late teen years, my hope was diminished. I didn't want to live in a place where an innocent child could grow up to see the terrors I had seen. I had no hope for a way out, thankfully, someone else did. When I was running low on that four letter word, another person borrowed some to me. In fact several came together to do so.
I'll tell you what, I flourished! I did everything in my power to spread hope, love, kindness and humor to any person I met.
Then in an instant it was all gone.I hoped it was all a terrible lie.
I found myself a victim with no voice, no strength and no hope. Well, not the way you would expect. I hoped I would be shown the mercy of the blade pressed across my throat. I hoped I would not have to suffer. Now I just hope to forget.
Now as I'm in my early to mid twenties I have had amazing friendships, a car accident, misguided relationships, as well as truly great ones, deaths of loved ones and a chance for a fresh start. I hope to figure as much of life out as I'm meant to. I hope to learn from past mistakes, betrayals and celebrations.
I don't think people realized how much hope really hurts. It has been known to rip out my entire soul and throw it to the dogs. In order for hope to exist there needs to be something terrible for it to manifest that wishful feeling. In order to experience the fruit of the hope, you need to overcome tragedy.
This sick fact makes me question each person I meet. What makes them happy? Surely it's impossible to have a perfect life with no instances of pain or suffering. It makes me wonder if the happiest people have seen the worst terrors and therefore know the most satisfying feeling of making it out through the other side?
What can I learn from these people?
In turn, what can I do for others through this?
I understand that I broke a ton of writing rules by typing 'Hope' nearly 30 times, but I think it's necessary to get my feelings across.
There is another entirely different feeling that I associate with hope that I originally 'hoped' to write about. I can't seem too, I think it would be more appropriate for me to discuss that another time.
If you take one thing from this today, please let it be this;
Hope is incredibly strong, it can be the glue that holds someone together. If you have good intentions then please spread hope anywhere you can. However if you are unsure of your intent, I beg of you to think twice. For false hope can tear someone apart faster and harder than anything else in this world.
Hope is incredibly strong, it can be the glue that holds someone together. If you have good intentions then please spread hope anywhere you can. However if you are unsure of your intent, I beg of you to think twice. For false hope can tear someone apart faster and harder than anything else in this world.
